THE YEARS OF THE TIGER
by Night Wynd
Summary: StarClan told of a heroic tale, where Lion and Tiger would meet in battle, and blood would rule the forest. We were led to believe that it would be the Lion who would reign victor in the fight, and that Tiger would fall under our united paws. But we were wrong. And now? Our only hope rests on the oncoming storm.


**A/N: Welcome to the story, interested readers! The name's Night Wynd (you can shorten that in any way you please. Night, Wynd, as long as it gets your boat floating), a relatively new user as a member of this site. I'll save some stuff for the bottom, as to not hold you, but I'll just let you in on one thing- this is my first story, and do enjoy!**

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Countless moons.

He had waited so long for this single moment, and it had finally arrived. The moment where he would rise up from the pathetic shadow ThunderClan had cast upon itself by welcoming in so much rogue and kitty-pet filth, and shake loose the tendrils that linked it to the name of the "peaceful Clan of the forest." No longer would he stand idly aside as the other Clans teased and bullied his own around. Their tranquil natures gave the impression that they were weak. He wanted to fix that.

The dark tabby's amber pools caressed almost gently the blue-gray she-cat before him, huddled in a trembling mess, with livid coat spiked and bristling. Her cobalt eyes- once so clear and blue- were stretched wider then the moon and hazy with disbelief and miscomprehending as she gawped at him. He was an impending death, carried upon the massive shoulders of her most powerful warrior, and dripping from the claws that had always been unusually longer then normal. A sickening smirk began to curl upon the muscular tomcat's maw, making the leader shrink down more, the fear in her eyes intensifying. A thundering guffaw flitted passed the pulled lips of the warrior. Nothing but an inaudible babble could slip through her own, despite the fact that they were gapped open so large so to have been able to fit a whole mouse through.

"Well, well, well." He spoke in a voice chillingly gradual and tranquil, as he circled around the blue-gray she-cat. "You seem to be in a state of puzzlement, Bluestar. Could it be because you can't understand why there are rogues outside your den, felling your cats, one by one by one?" He chuckled again. "Or, perhaps it is because you can't comprehend why these rogues come here in the first place?" The dark tabby paused before the she-cat, unyielding amber infernos leaping in the depths of his darkened gaze. He suddenly lurched forward, causing Bluestar to hunch back. But her back hit the wall, and fear stabbed its icy claws into her heart as the truth crashed down on her like a wave. With this dark tabby before her, ready to slit her neck at any given moment, and no place to run- her only chance of survival was from an outside force, which the probability of seemed, at the moment, improbable

But the tabby didn't offer her much time to plan a cry for help, as he raised one large paw and fixed his claws around the lower jaw of ThunderClan's leader. Amber met blue as the two puissant cats stared into the depths of each other's gazes. In hers, the dark tabby observed a commingling of fear and disbelief, with tones of bemusement and pure, raw, in-the-flesh astonishment crossing paths with it. But within those rich, dark red pools of his? Triumph. Ambition. The look one expresses when they have achieved a long-term goal they have been striving toward for almost their entire life.

And it had finally happened.

Suddenly, he couldn't wait any longer. Exhilaration, inspiration, any sort of encouraging emotion that could have possibly surged through him did- and, with zealous, hitched haste, he launched his entire bulky mass at her. A roar of victory exploded from the depths of his throat as he lunged, the ravenous urges to kill suddenly illuminating his eyes, and yanking his lips backwards in a ferocious snarl. The dark tabby didn't even give himself time to savor the glory of the moment as his fore leg extended before him, lashing out at a speed as swift as the wind over the moorland. He couldn't wait, his nerves were already dancing and raging in tune with the thrilling song of battle. However, time seemed to grow gradual as the tips of his claws tickled the blue-gray she-cat's neck. The hooked razors glinted in the reflection of Bluestar's eyes, and the warrior was aware to spot the leader flinch as Death's very hands reached out to her, and imbedded its knife-like fingernails into her flesh. Within a matter of moments, crimson blood was spraying as if the dark tabby had slit a water pipe, and the sticky, copper-scented liquid was clinging ravenously to his forepaw as he tore mercilessly across the she-cat's throat. She attempted to scream, jaws departing to set free all the fear and pain she had held captive in her lungs, but all that was sounded was a heart-wrenching gurgling noise, as her own blood drowned out her words, and flooded and spilled from the profound wound, where a chunk of flesh was ruthlessly shredded.

Bluestar's agonized screams managed to choke out as her body convulsed once, but not without the spatter of blood that flew from her lips as gore began to trickle down her lower jaw, spilling from her mouth. Her legs suddenly buckled, and the once proud and mighty leader of ThunderClan crumbled to the floor in a twitching, bloody mess. The dark tabby watched on, but he did not appear pleased, or remorseful. Simply impassive, was his face- colorless, as he absorbed the scene of his leader convulsing at his paws. She was losing a life, the very one itself ebbing away as it leaked out along with the blood that was beginning to pool around her. Two pupils, minimized by both agony and fear, flicked to the edge of their sockets to watch as he raised his paw, preparing for a final blow. He could see the glinting of his own claws in the reflection of her watery, cerulean eyes. She was trembling, now, so fiercely that she couldn't have moved an inch without collapsing due to her shakiness. Bluestar was beginning to weaken, her eyes beginning to dull, as her next life slipped away, and was lost to the stars.

Just as a smirk began to unfold across the dark tabby's face, a soft noise from behind attracted his attention, and his head snapped around to identify the source of the sound. A low, dangerous growl came from.

Fireheart.

This was exactly what the warrior was speaking of when he meant filth. This flame-licked tomcat's origins resided beyond the fence that bordered the two-leg place and the forest. He was not feral-born, he was a pampered kitty- and for sure did not deserve his place in this Clan! The dark tabby gathered himself into an aggressive stance, watching the young male with an intense, blazing gaze as he inspected the area. The massive tomcat did not say a word. Although he despised the youth, he knew he was clever enough to connect the dots.

A beaten, scourged body behind. A standing cat, with blood coating his paws, and eyes flaring with the still burning flame of a finished fight. Yes- it wasn't very complicated.

"Y-you…" The ginger tom's voice was unsteady, as if he himself did not know how to express what he wanted in words. "You, you killed her…" His voice kept trailing away, like it was continuously slipping on and off a path. Green orbs flicked upwards to rest on him, and a sudden blast of both fear and fury exploded in his gaze. "Y-you traitor! You monster! You murderer! You killed Bluestar!"

This provoked a hearty laugh from the muscular deputy. "Yes, Fireheart- you sure know how to use your eyes, don't you?" The look of shock that crossed the young warrior's face lured out another series of chuckles. There was no need in denying his true intentions, any longer.

"Yes, I killed Bluestar!" He bellowed. "But it was time for that bee-brained elder to pass on leadership to a new kind of power. A power that will lead this Clan into its Golden Age, and resurrect it from the ashes of its former, glorious self." The dark tabby stalked forward, an ugly, twisted grin splitting his maw as he approached Fireheart, who stepped back warily. Suddenly, his voice dropped to something close to a hoarse whisper, and an almost strained appearance showed on the cat's abruptly serious face. "It was time to avenge the ThunderClan I knew, who died when Thistleclaw was robbed of his rightful leadership, by that _sorry excuse_-" The rage returned to his eyes as he head snapped around to face the body of Bluestar, which had begun to stir and moan as it recollected itself, and returned for its final life. "-of a leader we have now!" Again, his cranium swiveled, a penetrating stare resuming its rest on the ginger warrior. The smirk returned as well. "And just who is this said power?"

His next course of action was so unpredictable, that there was nothing bystander Fireheart could do to avoid it. The dark tabby whirled around and lashed out one paw, the large mitt connecting with the side of Bluestar's head. The leader had no time to offer any reaction more then the widening of her eyes as death, for the second time that day, hurtled toward her, and landed a hard blow on her temple. There was a sickening sound as bone was shattered, and her poor, frail, and battered body was flung carelessly across the floor of the den, a sickening thwack echoing through the room as she collided with the wall, and slipped down to the ground below. As the warrior watched on, beaming, Fireheart cried his leader's name and charged to the place where she lay, crippled and still, dead.

The dark tabby watched on as Fireheart crouched over the blue-gray she-cat's limp frame, murmuring and prodding her, desperately making attempts to lure her back from a tenth life. Alas, such tries were pointless- the once mighty leader of ThunderClan had fallen, and now the power of the Clan fell into the paws of her murderer.

Then, the massive warrior began to move forth to the ginger tom, who scrambled to his paws and backed away, fear and anger returning to his stunning emerald pools. He curled his lip in a snarl, but the dark tabby merely laughed and stalked closer. "There's nowhere to run now, kitty-pet," the deputy chuckled menacingly, watching as fear began to overpower the rage in Fireheart's gaze. The cat's claws slid out, and did Fireheart's likewise, and the two toms locked eyes. It was only seconds that they stood there, so still, with not even the slightest hint of breath- but to them? Moons had gone by; or, rather, back. Fireheart saw everything in those eyes. All of the pain and rage, triumph and grief, trouble and certainty that the dark tabby had endured and currently harbored, cooped up within the stockade his ribs created, where the living, beating source of these emotions thrived.

And then it was certainty that spread throughout the ginger tom's mind. Alongside the revelation were the sins that had brought the warrior to where he stood now. Redtail's murder, the intention and plot to slay Ravenpaw, in order to keep his jaws clamped, and the gradual, step-by-step process on his rise to power. But what stood out to him the most was the deputy's most recent of triumphs- the felling of Bluestar. Yet as for what the future held for his Clan? That he could not pry from the guarded gaze of Tigerclaw.

And then their moments of tranquility ceased, and the heat of battle began to swell and dance across the room of the den, influencing the bristling warriors. Two yowls rang out in unison as tabby fur met ginger, and within seconds the two toms were locked in battle once more.

The dark tabby wasted no time in raining heavy blows on the young warrior, with unsheathed claws slamming hard and repetitive on Fireheart's cheeks and muzzle. The ginger warrior cried out, ducked his head in an attempt to avoid the attacks, but his opponent simply battered his ears, which shredded under his claws like leaves.

Fireheart thought fast. How could he flip the tables of this already lopsided fight? His mind scrambled to grab some kind of past lesson from his apprenticeship, when suddenly his reflexes activated. All within a series of brisk and breezy movements, the ginger tom dropped to his belly and bunched his muscles, springing forwards at full force before barreling into Tigerclaw's chest, causing him to stagger. The tabby grunted, and Fireheart felt his body give a quick convulse as the force of the attack rippled through him. But there was no time to gloat over the landing of the hit. His opponent was ready for revenge.

This cat was one hell of a fighter- that was for sure. He had hardly enough time to recollect himself for a second blow before Tigerclaw yowled deafeningly into Fireheart's ear, rattling his brain and dazing him for several critical moments. While the ginger warrior gathered himself, trying to withdraw from his place against the cat's chest, the dark tabby grabbed the young male's hips with his large forepaws. Panic grabbed his heart as the warrior sunk his claws deep into the flesh clinging to the bone. Agony tore through him, spreading throughout his body like a fire, scorching every organ and every hair until he was burned both inside and out.

Tigerclaw took advantage of this moment. Quickly, with the speed of a WindClan cat, the massive tabby dropped his cranium and snapped his jaws, catching the scruff of the ginger warrior's neck. Fireheart yowled and thrashed his hardest to break free, but Tigerclaw held fast. With teeth ready to break skin at any given moment, the dark tabby tom began to haul his writhing opponent outside of the den, and dropped him before it, at its mouth.

Before he could scram, the deputy placed a sturdy paw upon Fireheart's exposed throat. The young warrior stared up at the dark tabby, his face a canvas, battered by a storm of emotions.

Fear. Fear of the threat of an impending death by his greatest enemy's claws.

Anger. Anger towards the fact that he had allowed this malevolent tom get the best of him, to put him in this place.

Hate.

Oh how blazing and spicy. Hatred far beyond something one could understand, yet in the least bit complex. A burning passion, an unyielding disdain- and for all the right reasons. After all, it was all by his paws. The slaughter of his leader and mentor, the plotted homicide of one of his closest friends, and the crippling of his first apprentice. And there was only one cat to blame for all of these wrongs.

Him.

A toothy grin split the face of the dark tabby as he stared down at the young male. The frustration upon his face was amusing, as sick as that sounded. Oh, how his claws simply yearned to sink into the flesh they tickled now. Yet, he withheld. As much as he wanted to finish this cat here and now- and he most certainly could- he wanted to watch him squirm, to see him suffer. This was the cat that had nearly spoiled his entire plan. But he hadn't- and that mere knowledge felt good.

The dark tabby ducked his head, and shoved his muzzle into Fireheart's face. They were nose to nose now, and the closeness of each other drowned out all the noise surrounding them. All they saw was another. Amber on green. Ginger on tabby. Then, Tigerclaw began to speak, the gradualness of his voice causing chills to run marathons down Fireheart's spine.

"Now listen here, kitty-pet." There was venom in his voice, and the ginger warrior detected shakiness among his words, as if the dam that restrained his emotions was beginning to atrophy. "You have placed your paws in enough of my plans. And I re_fuse_-" Fireheart yelped as pressure pushed against his throat. "-to allow this to continue."

There was a split moment where the ginger tom's mind had come to agree to the fate that hung over him like an one hundred pound weight dangling by a tattered string. This was it. Tigerclaw was going to kill him, here and now, and ThunderClan would be lost to his already bloodstained claws.

But he didn't. Instead, a new blast of breath struck his face, carrying with it a message that took Fireheart by surprise. In a voice cold and serious, Tigerclaw spoke.

"Run, kitty-pet," he meowed. "Run, run and run, and I'll let you live. But if you return to the forest, at any given time, I'll make sure you feel my claws personally."

And with that, he released him.

Fireheart didn't understand this sudden act of mercy, but he didn't take it for granted, either. With tail curling between his hind legs, the ginger tom turned tail and pelted out of camp, like an ember leaping away from the mother flame, and disappearing as it was engulfed by the crowded trees and undergrowth that created ThunderClan's territory.

Tigerclaw stood there, shoulders hunched, chest heaving as if that fight was an effort. He stared after Fireheart until he was nothing more in his vision, before swinging his broad head around to see if anyone had spotted the quarrel he had just had finished. And his heart stopped for a second, because his eyes met another's, only these were not the emerald blazes of Fireheart's.

These were blue.

They were unusual for the silver-grey pelt of this particular she-cat, but nonetheless an attractive addition to her already alluring svelte figure and sleek, soft pale coat. And just on whom did they reside?

A charming queen, by the name of Willowpelt.

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**A/N: So, how'd you like the story? Love the idea, hate the concept? Why not tell me why in a review? Just remember, don't go throwing a tantrum, merely because this is not the path the series took. It's called FanFiction, as in a "fan's" version. This is my concept of how I would have made it turn out, had Tigerstar succeeded in his plans of leadership. Constructive criticism is welcomed, however, and I'd love to read what you guys think of the story! Now, have fun waiting on the next part of it!**


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